A Strictly Hypothetical Situation
by Sunny Monster
Summary: Mark and Roger pass the time with idle talk. Not technically slash, but it is discussed. The time frame isn't really important, but I'd say it's preRent.


It was a breezy, but pleasant autumn day in the East Village. Children were playing in the park, and a few yards away, two young men were sitting on a bench. Well, one of them was sitting, as it's normally defined, that is. The other was upside-down, with his legs hooked over the back of the bench and his torso horizontal on the seat, his head supported by his folded arms. His friend was looking at him in an impatient sort of way.

"Roger, don't sit like that. All the blood will rush to your head and you'll explode and die."

"Cool."

The young maverick's companion rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, Mark, I like letting the blood rush to my head. It helps me think clearer when I sit back up. Makes it easier to come up with ideas for my songs."

Mark sighed in defeat, and then there was silence for a while. Mark watched the children laughing on the slides, fighting over the swing set. Roger watched the birds and planes soaring through the sky and the squirrels scurrying up the trees.

Eventually, the men began to discuss the classic topic: women. Former girlfriends, new prospects, what they were looking for. Mark wanted a relationship, someone honest and caring, someone affectionate, someone who would be there for him. Roger was more in the mood for a few good one-night-stands, claiming that he'd go on a date with any girl if she was attractive enough. "Commitment sucks," he explained.

"Oh, come one, Roger," began Mark, doubtful. "You're not really _that_ shallow, are you?"

"Mark, I play in a band named the _Well Hung_arians," was Roger's response, giving Mark a that-should-be-obvious look. "What do you think?"

"What, so you'd date me if I was girl?"

"Well, no, of course not," replied Roger, playing idly with the fringe of Mark's scarf from his upside-down position.

"Why not?"

"Well… you wouldn't _really_ be a girl, you know?"

"No, I would," countered Mark. "All it takes is a little operation."

"Still, it'd be too weird. For one thing, I don't think you'd look too good female."

"Merely a surface issue." Mark paused to toss back a rubber ball that had rolled away from its owner. "Some plastic surgery, and I could be as hot as that girl you hit on at the bar last week."

"Which one? And where are you getting the money for all of these changes?"

"I'm not; this is a strictly hypothetical situation," insisted Mark. "But seriously, if I got my body changed to that of a highly attractive woman, would you want to sleep with me then?"

"Nah."

"Why _not_?" Mark demanded.

"Because you'd still be you. You'd still be Mark," Roger said simply.

"Actually, I was thinking Margaret."

"What?" Roger gave Mark a puzzled look.

"Well, come on. You can't expect me to walk around with boobs and a vagina and still be calling myself 'Mark'," he explained, nonchalant.

Some of the mothers supervising their children on the playground were beginning to give the two young men some _very_ dirty looks.

"Mark, I don't expect you to walk around with boobs and a vagina _at all_," Roger said in return, raising an eyebrow.

"But still, you haven't given me a good answer."

"It just wouldn't work," said Roger with a shrug, after pausing a while to think about it.

"That's your worst excuse yet! What do you mean it wouldn't work? We already know we're compatible enough to live together, why can't we date?"

"We are still talking about a strictly hypothetical situation, right?" asked Roger, looking a little confused.

"Of course. Answer the question," demanded Mark.

"I don't know, you're like my brother. So if we slept together, it'd be like incest, and that's just too freaky for me. I mean, even if you became a woman, you'd still be like my, uh, sister, I guess."

"Well, you know, between ten and fifteen percent of college students say they have experimented sexually with a sibling," came the deep voice of a third man, walking up to Mark and Roger's bench.

"Collins!" Roger scrambled into an up-right position.

"The one and only. Sorry I'm late. Let's go get lunch, I'm starved."


End file.
